


I'm What's Left When Children Go to War

by Anonymous



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Choking, Implied/Referenced Whipping, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Relationships, Post-Election, References to Editor Wilbur, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), aftermath of schlatt hurting tubbo and niki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Schlatt, newly elected president J. Schlatt, points his finger at them and screams of their exile, and Wilbur’s world stops, freezes, collapses in on itself. There’s blood roaring in his ears, Tommy tugging on his sleeve, and all Wilbur can think about isIt wasn’t supposed to go this way.or“Schlatt is paranoid. Unpredictable,” Niki explains, the trembling of her hands not quite hidden by her new uniform. “His trust in us is high but fragile. If one of us leaves, betrays him, the others pay the price.”orNiki and Eret stumble in, supporting Tubbo between them, and Wilbur is racing up the stairs in an instant.-Wilbur flees from his nation, builds a new one, and worries about his family.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 46
Kudos: 480
Collections: Anonymous





	I'm What's Left When Children Go to War

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly reminder that this is, obviously, fiction, and this writing does in no way represent the actual people portrayed here, and if they say that they are uncomfortable with fanfiction I will be taking this down.
> 
> WARNING: This story does deal with the aftermath of referenced and implied abuse, specifically whipping and choking, and while none of the injuries are described in detail it's important to note that they are caused by Schlatt, so if that squicks or triggers you, please take care of yourself first and foremost!

Schlatt, newly elected president J. Schlatt, points his finger at them and screams of their exile, and Wilbur’s world stops, freezes, collapses in on itself. There’s blood roaring in his ears, Tommy tugging on his sleeve, and all Wilbur can think about is _It wasn’t supposed to go this way._

Then there are arrows flying through the sky, then there is pain in his shoulder, then there is nothing more than two desperate people running as fast as they can. Tommy and Wilbur flee for their lives. They don’t have the time to think about anything but getting away.

They stumble through the wilderness, distantly aware of their exile but not quite realizing it yet. It feels like a bad dream, a distant nightmare. Tommy helps Wilbur down to the ravine, cleans the wound from the arrow, digs and builds them a place to exist before morning comes. It’s not until the early hours of dawn when they start to drift off to sleep that Wilbur thinks about how it’s just the two of them, thinks about Tubbo climbing the steps to the podium.

Tommy misses Tubbo, that much becomes apparent as the days stretch into a week, then two. They have Techno, now, arriving in a flash of light and dramatics and a hunger for chaos, but the newly christened Pogtopia is much too empty and much too cold. It echoes with ghosts of old laughter, of songs sung by the campfire of L’Manburg. Simpler times, they were. Wilbur can’t help but miss them. Oh, how he thought that liberating L’Manburg was the hardest task of his life; at least he had his family by his side.

Wilbur can’t do anything about his family (Tubbo, standing next to Schlatt; Niki, screaming out when they were exiled; Fundy, stone-faced and silent; Eret, traitor even before), but he can do something about the ravine. He takes the lead once again, assigning tasks and carving out a space for them to live in. Slowly rooms are dug into the walls, torches lining twisting stairways. They build a new campfire.

The cold of the caves never leaves. Wilbur isn’t sure if the chill on his bones is from the caverns of their new land or the harsh reminder of betrayals from the people he thought he could trust. He tries not to think about it.

(Cold, cold, cold. It doesn’t make thinks easier. Wilbur wants to forget, to bury everything to do with the cold and that smile, but he can’t, so he just keeps going.)

It’s Niki who comes to them, first. She’s not wearing the revolutionary coat they all once made for themselves, back when the hope for L’Manburg was high; instead she’s dressed in a black suit, stiff and ill-fitting even while being perfectly cut into shape.

Wilbur blanches when he sees the outfit but wraps his arms tight around Niki as soon as he’s close enough to do so. Niki hugs back, equally tight. Wilbur doesn’t ask about whether or not she’s on their side. The relief in her eyes and the desperation of the hug is enough to tell him where her loyalties lie.

Niki tells them of George and of Tubbo. There are two things that connect them, she says. 

One: the three of them form most of Schlatt’s close circles. George acts as his bodyguard, Niki is his secretary of treasury and Tubbo works directly under Schlatt as his right-hand man and secretary of state. They are high in the new government and high in Schlatt’s good graces. They all have inside information on the nation.

Two (and this is what’s important): none of them hold any love for Schlatt. Traitors to the nation, working to unravel it from its heart, that’s what Niki tells them. Tight alliance built on desperation and determination to not to let a powerthirsty dictator reign over their land. 

Wilbur understands the importance of her work, and even when relief fills him (Tubbo is on their side. Niki is on their side. They have people on their side.) he wants to beg her to leave, to stay here with them. It must show on his face, because Niki’s careful smile falls a bit.

“Schlatt is paranoid. Unpredictable,” she explains, the trembling of her hands not quite hidden by her new uniform. “His trust in us is high but fragile. If one of us leaves, betrays him, the others pay the price.”

It scares Wilbur, even when he doesn’t want to admit it. He itches to march into L’Manburg, to take it back with a one-man-army, but he knows he can’t. He’s stuck in a ravine in the middle of nowhere, unwanted in L’Manburg and unwanted in the Dream SMP.

Niki leaves. Wilbur escorts her as far as he can, hugs her goodbye and watches as she walks off, back towards L’Manburg. She carries herself differently, now, a weird mixture of standing straight and the weight of the world pushing her shoulders down. Wilbur misses her carefree posture. It takes everything in him to not to run after Niki, to take her hand and keep her there with them, safe.

Instead he watches until she disappears into the forest. It’s not until the last sign of her has passed that he turns and goes back to his new nation, an imitation of what once was.

Their days continue as before, but now they are not devoid of news, confined only to their little nation of outcasts. Now they get a steady stream of information from L’Manburg; Wilbur and Tommy still hold onto their old communicators. Niki and Tubbo were given new ones, ones that don’t connect to Wilbur’s communicator, but Eret’s does. Niki and Tubbo and even George pass on news through him, plans and statements and the things Schlatt says when his tongue has been loosened by a few drinks in the evenings.

Wedged between political documents and updates on the nation’s state are letters and notes, some addressed to Tommy, some to Wilbur. Wilbur sees Tommy stare at his communicator sometimes, re-reading old lines and words or waiting the device to light up with a new message. He can’t fault him; Wilbur reads the things Niki and Tubbo write him over and over and over again, in the cold nights when hope seems lost. They keep him afloat in the middle of it all.

(Fundy doesn’t write. Niki tells Wilbur that he’s tearing down the walls, standing by Schlatt’s side. Wilbur wants to cry. He doesn’t.)

Eret passes on the messages, never adding anything. Wilbur doesn’t trust him yet, is not sure if he ever can. His mind is filled with Eret’s smile when the walls opened to reveal their enemies. He thinks of Eret and sees the crown painted in their blood. Wilbur doesn’t trust him, but he’s grateful of his help anyway.

Sometimes Niki or Tubbo or even George gets enough freedom to sneak down to Pogtopia. Wilbur remembers the first time it was Tubbo, hesitantly walking down the stone steps, Tommy’s shout of joy as he shot up to hug his best friend. They had clung to each other for minutes. Wilbur had elected to leave them to it. The news Tubbo was carrying could wait.

Tommy is still overjoyed whenever Tubbo visits. He balks at the sight of the awfully form-fitting suit and the emerald green tie Tubbo wears, every time, but it’s soon forgotten when laughter fills the ravine, the boys taking the chance to be kids again.

Wilbur watches them, laughing, but his heart feels heavy. He can’t help but notice the dark bags under Tubbo’s eyes, the smiles that get emptier and emptier, the trembling of his hands that’s gotten worse between each visit. Wilbur sees, and he worries, but there’s not much he can do. He makes sure to hug Tubbo as tight as he can, but at the end of the day the boy climbs out of Pogtopia and heads back to L’Manburg, away from Wilbur’s reach.

Techno sees the warning signs too, Wilbur knows, because the hybrid’s keen eyes keep following Tubbo whenever he visits. Wilbur isn’t sure if Tommy’s noticed, but if his sleepless nights and worried eyes are anything to go by, he has. 

Tommy’s shoulders get heavier with time, and Wilbur hates it, hates the way these teens, these children, were dragged into a mess of war and politics. Sometimes, when he lays awake, he wonders if it’s his fault, if he was the one who pulled them in. He thinks he might be.

So their careful existence continues; Pogtopia expands, new rooms being carved into twists of tunnels, new torches lighting up the paths, new carpets softening the harsh floors. Tommy shaping himself into the world around him and shaping the world around him to fit him, besting Techno in battle after weeks of training and not forgetting to boast about it later. Techno opening up the more nights spent sitting around a campfire. Wilbur drawing plans, plans, plans to take back his country.

It all changes one morning, maybe a month or two into their exile. George scrambles down into Pogtopia with no warning, almost into Techno’s raised axe and Tommy’s crossbow bolt. He doesn’t have much with him, just a bow, some arrows, a bag hastily slung on his shoulder. He’s breathing hard. Wilbur feels something like fear rise in him.

“What the hell are you doing? I was going to shoot you!” Tommy screams, his grip tight on the crossbow still pointing at George. Techno hasn’t lowered his sword yet. Wilbur can’t will himself to move, to react, but it’s him who George looks at, expression controlled but an apology dancing in his eyes.

“Schlatt found out,” George breathes. Wilbur’s blood freezes in his veins. He sees Tommy’s hands go white on the crossbow as Niki’s warning echoes in his mind.

“I left before he got me, I couldn’t find them but I warned Eret,” George explains and Wilbur feels like screaming, feels like marching into what’s left of L’Manburg to drag Niki and Tubbo out, feels like taking the axe to Schlatt’s throat to end this madness. The desperation to do something, anything, burns under his skin, and he forces it down, replaces it with stinging helplessness. He can’t do anything. He’s stuck here.

Instead he offers George some food and supplies and then sees him out when he leaves. George continues to wherever Dream is hiding, and Wilbur watches him disappear from sight, the fear for Niki and Tubbo gripping him hard.

He’s not completely useless; he and Techno set out to make sure that the new med room is stocked to the brim, sending Tommy out for herbs and simple potion ingredients and food to stop his restless pacing. Wilbur wants to imagine that the med room will go unused but the dark, scared lump in his chest says otherwise.

Stocking the med room is soon done, and Wilbur cannot keep still. He’s fidgeting with the communicator, waiting for a message from Eret, saying that Niki and Tubbo are safe and sound. Damn his creative mind, so used of dreaming up words, scenarios, situation, and now showing horror after horror after horror.

Wilbur hasn’t held much trust in Schlatt in ages, but now he desperately wants to, wants to believe that Schlatt wouldn’t hurt them. Never mind Tubbo’s trembling hands and Niki flinching at small noises and George hiding red eyes behind his glasses, Schlatt wouldn’t hurt them.

Wilbur doesn’t believe it, even when he wants to. He continues to worry.

Techno is restless, he knows. The hybrid keeps his axe close, ears listening for the slightest of sounds. Techno has never dealt well with waiting. He thrives in chaos, in having something to do, in bloodshed and fighting and winning. Wilbur wants to help but can barely keep himself together.

Tommy is restless too. He’s pacing the cavern, muttering under his breath, getting his communicator out to read a word or two on the screen before getting distracted and putting it away again. Wilbur cannot help him either. He feels sick with the fear and the helplessness.

Midday passes. Wilbur forces himself to move, makes Tommy to prepare the meat and asks Techno to get the potatoes. He doesn’t hurry with the rest, hoping that Techno gets some calm out of harvesting and Tommy distracts himself with something to do. He busies himself with stoking the fire, hands steady despite his worry. He cannot afford to shake apart now.

They pull together a small meal that goes mostly uneaten. Wilbur tries his best, but the potatoes and the meat taste like ash in his mouth. Techno doesn’t even try, just pushes his food aside. Tommy, bless him, tries to eat something, but in the end the food is cold long before its eaten, and Wilbur ends up carrying the plates away.

The waiting, Wilbur decides half an hour later, is the worst part of this all. He’s trying to do little tasks around the ravine, stuff that needs fixing, but can’t focus well enough for even the simplest of duties. 

Tommy paces again, still stopping to pull up messages on the communicator, fervently going through words written to him. Wilbur doesn’t know if he’s trying to find anything to tell him about what might be happening right now, or if he’s just seeking comfort. He doesn’t ask.

Techno is farming. He does it when he wants to calm down, Wilbur knows, but now his movements have a stiffness that has never existed before. Wilbur leaves him to it.

It takes a few restless minutes more, but Wilbur’s communicator buzzes in his pocket, and he has never scrambled to get it out faster. His heart is pounding in his chest, his hands are trying to push the right buttons, all the steadiness gone. The screen lights up with a message from Eret.

_I got them, I’m bringing them to Pogtopia,_ Eret writes and Wilbur nearly faints with relief. Eret has them. Eret is with them. Niki and Tubbo are with Eret.

Wilbur might have realized the trust he was currently putting in Eret, all the distrust from earlier before. He might have realized it, but Eret starts typing another message, and all of Wilbur’s attention snaps to that. Several minutes go by with Eret seemingly writing, erasing what he wrote, and starting again. Wilbur waits with his heart in his throat, barely registering that Tommy is staring at him, mouth slightly open.

_Make sure Tommy doesn’t storm off to Manburg,_ Eret finally sends, and falls quiet. Wilbur’s stress levels skyrocket in an instant. Something is wrong. Something bad has happened.

He snaps out of it when Tommy approaches him, looking like he barely dares to hope. He doesn’t know what’s happened, but if Tommy would get angry enough to storm L’Manburg by himself, it’s to do with Tubbo. Which means Wilbur has to remove Tommy from the picture.

“Tommy,” he hears himself say, faintly, “I need you to go out.”

Tommy puts up a fight, of course. He sputters and yells and almost begs, but Wilbur makes up some bullshit about needing food and herbs and sends him on his way. Tommy goes, angrily climbing up the stairs and disappearing from sight. Wilbur deflates.

Techno, drawn out from the farms by all the commotion, steps beside him. Wilbur hands him the communicator and watches as Techno’s expression goes from neutral to slightly shocked to analytical. He hands the communicator back without a word and sits down.

“Sit down, Wil, you look like you’re passin’ out on me,” he says, and Wilbur slumps down next to him, head in his hands. _I feel cold,_ he thinks, then realizes, then tries to drive his thoughts away.

They stay like that for a while, before Techno perks up. He nudges Wilbur and gets up, and Wilbur hears it, too; the voices of three people. He’s on his feet before he knows it, head rushing from getting up so quickly, and then they are there, standing at the top of the ravine. Wilbur’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest.

Niki and Eret stumble in, supporting Tubbo between them, and Wilbur is racing up the stairs in an instant, Techno hot on his heels. His heart is in his throat, the relief and the fear rising and trying to drown him, one after another.

Tubbo manages a smile as they approach. He’s abandoned the suit jacket, instead wearing a coat a bit too large for him, Eret’s, maybe, and no shirt underneath. He’s pale and shaky, unsteady on his feet, darkening bruising peeking out from underneath his oversized collar. Wilbur wants to smile back but can’t, his blood rushing in his ears.

Niki doesn’t look much better. She’s still wearing her suit, but it’s rumpled and wrinkled, and the white undershirt is speckled by red. Blood is caked on her chin and under her nose, and her cheek holds an angry red handprint. 

Wilbur wants to shake apart with rage when he sees the injuries, Niki standing like she’s ready to shatter, Tubbo swaying on his feet. Eret should have been worried about him, not Tommy. But maybe their difference is that as much Wilbur wants to march into L’Manburg and punch Schlatt in the face, he knows that his anger doesn’t help anyone now.

Techno rushes to Tubbo’s side, ready to support him. Wilbur sees him try to put his hand to the kid’s back to steady him, but Tubbo shies away and Eret hisses a hasty warning. A calculating look passes over Techno’s face, but he doesn’t say anything, just offers his arm for Tubbo to lean on. Tubbo takes it gratefully.

Wilbur goes to support Niki, trying to quickly check her for injuries. Niki smiles at him a bit unsteadily. Wilbur manages a smile, a small one. He hopes it comforting. He fears it might not be.

Eret stands back, hesitating, almost reaching for Tubbo again. Wilbur looks at him, keeps seeing the cocky smile, the opening walls. The crown mocks him, the dark glasses hiding Eret’s eyes. Wilbur remembers the triumph glowing in those eyes. It’s joined the things that haunt him at night.

“I have to get going before they start searching for me,” Eret says, looking at anywhere but Wilbur. Wilbur searches his face, tries to find the man he once stood by, the one who promised to protect L’Manburg with his life. There’s nothing but regret and pain, poorly concealed, on Eret’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know what to think about that. He feels hopeful. He feels cold.

Wilbur nods wordlessly, not managing to think of something to say, and Eret turns around and leaves. He glances behind him at Wilbur once, then again at Tubbo and Niki. He doesn’t look back after that.

Niki thanks Eret’s retreating back quietly, like reading a prayer. She looks like she wants to say more. Tubbo doesn’t say anything, just concentrates on looking straight ahead, hanging on Techno’s arm to keep himself upright.

The med room isn’t far, but it feels like a few decades before they get there. Techno opens the door and helps Tubbo stagger in, Niki and Wilbur following close behind. Wilbur helps Niki down on one of the beds and tries not to stare at the blood on her face. He knows Niki is strong. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

Techno sits Tubbo down on another bed, the boy sinking down on it gingerly. Niki’s eyes keep following him, Wilbur notes. There’s a weird tension in the air, and Wilbur doesn’t know what to make of it, but he admits that it scares him.

“What’s happened to your back?” Techno asks, never the one to beat around the bush, and Wilbur feels Niki jolt beside him. He glances at her, worried, and when he turns to look at Tubbo again the boy is even more pale than before, hands fidgeting with the too-long sleeves of the jacket. Wilbur sees the tremble in his shoulders.

Tubbo looks past Wilbur, searching for Niki, and when Wilbur turns his head, he sees Niki smile reassuringly. Tubbo swallows nervously but starts to gingerly shrug off the jacket hanging on his shoulders, his movements pained. Techno moves to help and Tubbo flinches but lets him, and together they peel the jacket away from Tubbo.

Wilbur doesn’t see Tubbo’s back from this angle, but Techno does, and the hybrid visibly stiffens. Tubbo curls in on himself, eyes fluttering around the room. He doesn’t look Wilbur in the eyes, even when Wilbur leans towards him, worried.

Niki gives him a little shove and when he looks at her again, she nods towards Tubbo. With one last look of confirmation Wilbur gets up and walks towards the boy. Tubbo’s eyes lock onto him when he gets up, the expression guarded, and Wilbur makes and effort to slow and soften his movement as he hurries to Tubbo’s side, awkwardly climbing on the bed to have a better look.

There are red, raw, somewhat bloodied lines running down Tubbo’s back. Wilbur counts seven of them and his blood boils in his veins. How dare Schlatt.

Tubbo looks so very small like this, pale and trembling. Still he tries to offer Wilbur a smile. Wilbur can’t return that smile and hates himself for it. He hates himself for dragging these kids into fighting a war that became theirs at some point.

Techno gets up and walks out without a word. Wilbur catches a glimpse of the darkened expression on his face and lets him go with no protest.

The small room falls into silence. Tubbo’s shoulders tremble and he hides his face, curling up even more. Wilbur wants to comfort him but doesn’t know how, doesn’t want to hurt him even more. He shares a glance with Niki, who seems equally worried and lost.

It’s cold, Wilbur thinks and doesn’t recoil. The cold of the caves must be hitting Tubbo’s bare back, but Wilbur doesn’t dare to put the dirty coat back on. He needs to clean the marks, anyway.

“How are you doing?” he asks Tubbo to break the silence, and immediately mentally berates himself for such a stupid question. He can bloody well see how Tubbo’s doing. God, could he please get this one thing right? He wants to do right by the boys, and he’s failing miserably.

Tubbo gives a strained laugh that turns into a muffled sob halfway through. He wipes at his face, tries to suppress the shaking of his shoulders. Wilbur wants to hug him so bad, but doesn’t dare to touch his back, lest he hurt Tubbo even more.

“I’m doing amazing, thanks,” Tubbo croaks, his voice rough and scratchy, and Wilbur notes the darkening bruises around his throat and shoulders, the ones he already managed to forget about. He gives Tubbo a smile, his best attempt at comfort, mind distractedly working on the bruises. There’s bruise salve somewhere in the room, he knows, they made some earlier. Where did they put it again?

The door opens with a creak and all three of them flinch a bit. God, they are messed up, Wilbur thinks as he watches Techno come in with two bowls, some rags, blankets draped over one arm.

Techno raises an eyebrow at their startled looks and drops one of the blankets on Tubbo’s bed. He gives Wilbur one of the bowls. It’s full of warm, almost hot water. Wilbur smiles, almost against his will. He tries to thank Techno, but the hybrid doesn’t answer, just hands Wilbur one of the rags. Wilbur doesn’t press.

Tubbo looks wary as Wilbur wets the rag. Wilbur asks for permission with his eyes. The boy nods, the smile on his face strained, and Wilbur carefully takes the rag his back, trying to keep his movements clear. Tubbo reaches for the blanket and buries his hands in it. Wilbur tries to not let his heartbreak show on his face.

Tubbo fidgets with the blanket, clearly trying to keep still. His shoulders are drawn tight and Wilbur feels him suppress small flinches every time the rag touches his back. He keeps going, even gentler, even more careful, whispering quiet apologies to Tubbo.

It takes a while, but finally Tubbo’s back looks clean enough. Wilbur tells him so, puts the rag away, doesn’t comment on the fact that Tubbo immediately turns around, keeping his back to the wall. Instead he retrieves the blanket and gives it to Tubbo, helps him to drape it around his shoulders. Tubbo looks better, now. He’s still pale, but his trembling has subsided and the smiles he gives seem more real. Wilbur smiles back.

Now that Tubbo’s back has been treated Wilbur turns his attention to the bruises marring Tubbo’s neck. They have become starker in the time it took to clean his back, and Wilbur thinks of the bruise salve again. It’s in one of the med room chests, he remembers, absentmindedly reaching for Tubbo’s neck to better see the damage.

Tubbo winces and Wilbur’s thoughts snap back into the situation at hand. He looks at the bruises, really looks. They form the shape of hands, tightening around one’s neck, and Wilbur stills, hand still hanging awkwardly in the air. The anger he tries so hard to keep in check raises its head again. That fucking monster.

Tubbo’s breathing, which has sped up a little, calms again with noticeable effort. The boy looks tired, resigned, looking anywhere but at Wilbur. Wilbur angles himself so that he’s looking at Tubbo, trying to capture his eyes but not daring to bring his hands anywhere near his neck.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, praying that Tubbo believes it, “Nothing about this is your fault, okay?”

Tubbo doesn’t answer. Wilbur wants to say more, wants to make him see that he did nothing wrong, but doesn’t find the right words. Instead he settles for tugging the blanket tighter around Tubbo’s shoulders and taking his hand, squeezing it before letting go and rising up to find the bruise salve.

There are not that many chests in the med room and Wilbur finds the salve in the second one he looks through. He sets it on the table next to the bed, uncertainly, not wanting to freak Tubbo out, and instead sits back down on the bed.

“Can you breathe fine?” he asks, trying to recall all the things that could be going wrong right now. It’s not a pleasant list. Tubbo nods.

“He didn’t really do it for long,” he says, voice scratchy. Wilbur’s heart aches something fierce, and his blood hums with the need to hurt Schlatt, make him pay for what he did. Cold, cold, cold, his mind whispers. He silences it and instead takes Tubbo’s hand again, desperate to comfort him any way he can.

Techno taps his shoulder and, at Wilbur’s questioning look, points towards the ravine, the main part of Pogtopia. If Wilbur strains his ears, he hears it too: Tommy is back. Wilbur shares a glance with Techno, gives Tubbo a smile and steps out, shutting the door behind him.

Tommy is already scuttling down the stairs, messily wrapped herbs and meat in his arms. The look of fear on his face is barely concealed by an angry scowl. Wilbur hurries to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. Tommy locks eyes with him and scowls even harder, dropping his holdings onto the nearest table. He opens his mouth, looks like he might start shouting, but falters when he catches the look on Wilbur’s face.

Wilbur reaches out, rests a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. He can hear Techno, voice but not the words, probably asking Tubbo or Niki something. Tommy hears it too, it seems, because his eyes keep flitting towards the med room. It’s almost like he’s in trance, not really believing it, just staying still. It scares Wilbur a bit, because Tommy isn’t known for stillness.

“Niki and Tubbo are here,” he says, for the lack of anything better to say. Tommy jerks under his hand, moving as if to run to the med room. Wilbur holds on tighter, receives an offended look for Tommy.

He thinks of his fingers, digging into Tommy’s shoulder to keep him in place. He thinks of Schlatt’s hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, the fading marks left behind. Bile rises in his throat and he loosens his grip as much as he dares.

“They are,” he starts, and hesitates, and settles on “hurt.” then immediately regrets it, hurrying to add “Not badly.” when panic fills Tommy’s face. The boy looks towards the med room, something unusually reserved in his posture.

“Just be careful,” Wilbur asks, almost begs, because he knows Tommy, and Tommy is brilliant, he really is, but he’s also fire, bright and burning and loud and brash. There’s something unrecognizable on Tommy’s face before he rips himself out of his hold and marches to the door. Wilbur follows suit, keeping a step behind him.

Tommy pulls the door open and Wilbur knows the exact moment he sees Tubbo, because after that he doesn’t look anywhere else, doesn’t spare a glance for anyone or anything else in the room. He’s by Tubbo’s side in three long strides, standing in front of his bed. Tubbo smiles, and the smile reaches his eyes more than any of the smiles he has given since his arrival.

“There you are, big man,” he croaks out, then seems to instantly regret it, wincing from the pain of speaking. Tommy’s eyes zero in on the finger shaped bruises on Tubbo’s throat and his hands clench, something dark passing over his face.

Wilbur is worried for a moment, but there’s no need to be; Tommy takes a breath, grabs the bruise cream from the table and sits down next to Tubbo. Wilbur sees the loosening of Tubbo’s shoulders and dismisses all his earlier thoughts about Tommy. He shouldn’t have sent the boy away. Tommy is fire, yes, but he would never hurt Tubbo, never make Tubbo uncomfortable.

“Hi,” Tommy says, voice a bit rough, and then “May I?” gesturing to Tubbo’s throat. Tubbo squeezes the blanket a bit tighter, looks uncertain for a fleeting moment, and nods. Tommy scoots closer and Tubbo turns his head to give Tommy better access to the bruises. Wilbur tries to not to imagine Schlatt’s hand in their place and fails miserably.

Tommy moves uncharacteristically slow and gentle, fingers hesitating before touching the skin. Tubbo shivers but doesn’t jerk away. He doesn’t speak again, but Tommy picks up a steady, if a bit strained, stream of chatter, starting with his latest training session with Techno. Normal stuff about normal days.

Wilbur, still standing in the doorway, watches them for a moment before tearing his gaze away. They are strong, and they are together now. They’re going to be okay.

Instead he makes his way over to where Techno is braiding Niki’s hair. She offers him a tired smile, and something inside Wilbur unclenches. His answering smile comes easier than any of his smiles today. He sits down on the bed and looks at Techno. The man seems to have calmed down a bit, shoulders more relaxed than before, focusing on finishing the braid.

“Thank you, Techno,” Niki says when the braid is finished, bringing it over her shoulder. Techno nods but doesn’t answer, just leans back against the wall. He seems a bit awkward, just sitting there, but doesn’t leave. Wilbur wants to believe it’s a good thing.

“How’re you?” he asks Niki. The blood has been cleaned from her chin, and she looks better, although Wilbur can still see the handprint on her cheek. His eyes rake over the dirty coat, wondering if it’s hiding injuries. He hopes not.

“I’m good. A bit sore but not hurt much,” Niki answers, smiling, but there’s a shadow in her expression from the truth they both know and despise; Tubbo got it worse.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Tommy stills and falls quiet as Tubbo, painfully, clears his throat and speaks, voice still rough and cracking: “Check her ribs.”

Niki looks down as Wilbur swivels back to face her, eyes raking over her with renewed vigor. Tubbo opens his mouth but Niki beats him to it.

“Schlatt kicked me a bit,” she confesses, the name falling from her lips like a curse. She’s looking down at her hands, stubbornly avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room.

Wilbur has to clench his fists to stop them from shaking with all the terror and rage he feels. Niki tenses, and Tubbo does too, he notices from the corner of his eye. It only makes him angrier, but he tries to relax, loosen his pose and his hands. It’s no use, he tells himself, focus on them now.

“Can I?” he asks quietly, gesturing to Niki’s jacket. She nods without much hesitation and Wilbur unbuttons both the coat and the shirt under it, grimacing when the dark bruising along Niki’s side comes to view. She hisses in pain when he ghosts his hand over her ribs. Probably broken, then. God, Wilbur hates Schlatt.

“You should check Tubbo for concussion,” Niki says. Wilbur can’t tell if she just remembered or if she’s feeling petty over Tubbo ratting her out. _Maybe both,_ he thinks absentmindedly while turning to look at Tubbo, _she’s the kind of person who would pettily take care of you._

Tommy freezes, his raised, salve-covered hand stopping inches from Tubbo’s neck and falling onto his lap like he’s afraid of hurting Tubbo. Tubbo flushes and twists to shoot Niki a look. The blanket wrapped around his shoulders falls a bit, not much but enough. Tommy pales.

“What’s that on your back?” he asks, voice shaking. Tubbo flinches, then looks terrified, then looks sad, then visibly steels himself. Wilbur’s heart aches, aches, aches.

“Schlatt lashed out a bit,” he grins weakly. The blanket doesn’t hide the way his hands are shaking. Wilbur takes a deep breath. Niki’s hand finds his. There’s something dark and murderous in Techno’s eyes.

“Did he fucking whip you?” Tommy seethes, face twisted and eyes pained, shaking hands reaching for Tubbo but not quite daring to touch. Tubbo looks like he wants to laugh it off, but the grin dies halfway through and ends up like a grimace

“Well, you could put it that way,” he says, voice forcibly light. Tommy’s eyes flit between Tubbo’s back and his eyes. His hands jerk a bit and Wilbur can see the clench of his jaw, the tensing of his shoulders, the anger swirling. Oh, how much Wilbur relates to that rage. He moves a bit, just to stop Tommy if he seems like he’s going to march into L’Manburg right now and here.

Tommy proves himself to be better than that, though. He takes a deep breath, visibly unclenches his jaw and lets go of the tension in his shoulders. Wilbur feels almost shamed by assuming that Tommy would ever put revenge above Tubbo.

“Did someone clean them?” Tommy asks, voice cracking halfway through. Tubbo offers him a small, grateful smile.

“Wilbur did,” he answers. Tommy jolts, as if just now realizing that there are other people in the room. He finds Wilbur and scowls, a silent look of betrayal, at Wilbur not telling him? At not stopping this from happening? Wilbur doesn’t know, but sends back an apologetic smile nevertheless.

Tommy turns away and Wilbur lets his shoulders fall. Someone is squeezing his hand, offering comfort, and when he turns his head he’s met with Niki’s tired eyes and gentle smile. He smiles back, trying to feel less like a failure of a leader. God, this is what he has led these kids to.

The bed creaks as Techno gets up and pads to Tubbo’s side, hooved feet clicking softly on the hard floor. Tommy watches, unmoving, sharp eyes following Techno’s every move, but when Tubbo doesn’t protest and instead offers a smile to Techno he relaxes a bit and resumes to tapping salve on the bruises. Techno hesitates when he reaches the bed, opting to sit down next to it. Wilbur hears him ask Tubbo about his head in a low voice. They’re in good hands, he knows. He trusts Techno more than he trusts himself.

He busies himself with retrieving Niki’s blanket and helping her out of the suit jacket. Tommy puts the bruise salve down on the side table, seemingly done with that tasks. Wilbur picks it up and starts taking care of Niki’s ribs. They’ll heal, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling awful every time Niki flinches or hisses in pain.

Time drags on, but eventually Techno steps out, and when Wilbur looks up, he sees Tubbo wrapped up in the blanket, sitting on the bed and leaning on Tommy. They are talking too quietly for Wilbur to hear the words.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks Niki, who looks tired and fragile but not broken, never broken. Wilbur reminds himself that despite her kindness, or maybe because of it, Niki is one of the strongest people he knows.

“I’m doing alright, Wilbur, honestly,” she answers, a hint of laughter echoing in her voice. Wilbur smiles without even meaning to. He leans down for a hug and relishes in the safety of Niki’s arms around him, her heartbeat strong and steady. Niki exhales like she’s been holding her breath for ages. Wilbur holds on tighter.

They talk, for a bit, about everything and nothing. Neither of them approaches the topic of Schlatt or L’Manburg. Instead they reminisce about old memories, argue about mindless things like dogs and cows, tell each other bad jokes. Wilbur feels lighter than in ages as he laughs himself hoarse about one pun or another. Niki smiles beside him in triumph. It’s nice.

Eventually Niki starts to tire, slumping against Wilbur’s shoulder. A small glance to the side reveals Tubbo curled up, his head on Tommy’s lap, Tommy himself nodding off. Wilbur is almost content to just stay there and sleep, before he reminds himself that none of them have gotten anything to eat nor drink after Niki and Tubbo’s arrival. The ache of hunger is suddenly so obvious that Wilbur wonders how he didn’t notice it before.

He smiles at Niki, urges her to take off her boots and lay down on the bed. Niki does so with minimal protest, blinks getting longer and longer. Wilbur rests a hand on her shoulder before getting up and walking over to Tubbo’s bed. He’s asleep, but Tommy isn’t, and the younger boy opens his eyes as Wilbur approaches.

“How’s everything?” Wilbur whispers awkwardly. Tommy shrugs like he wants to be mad but is too tired and scared for that.

“Okay, I guess,” he says, then hesitates, the hand not petting Tubbo’s hair clenching the blanket. He struggles for a moment, opening and closing his mouth. Wilbur waits.

“They- they just- you saw that, you saw what they did,” Tommy eventually says, voice full of anger and confusion and fear. Wilbur leans down and hugs him lightly, careful to not to wake Tubbo. Tommy clings onto him for a moment, lets himself be a kid before letting go. Wilbur understands. He smiles, ruffles Tommy’s hair and walks out of the room.

The smell of meat and roasted potatoes is the first thing that meets Wilbur as he closes the door behind him. Techno’s sitting by the fire, keeping an eye on the meat Tommy brought, currently cooking in the flames. It’s almost done, Wilbur thinks, and is overcome with a wave of gratitude.

Techno pats the space next to him without looking up. Wilbur walks over and sits down, lets himself slump over an old friend’s shoulder for a second. Techno doesn’t protest, just pats his back and lets him stay there for a few moments.

Wilbur sits back up and stares at the fire. He tries not to think about it, but his treacherous, wonderful, brilliant, creative mind wanders into unwanted places. What would it have been like, receiving each of those marks? His mind paints a picture of Tubbo, crying out from each lash, Niki being kicked.

He shakes his head harshly, shudders. Techno gives him a questioning glance but doesn’t press. Instead he instructs Wilbur to find some plates. Wilbur breaths deeply once, twice, collects himself once more and gets up.

“Food’s almost ready,” Techno tells him. Wilbur nods and starts going through the chests, looking for the plates. One of the old, empty chests lay in splinters. Techno’s axe, usually kept in Techno’s room or with the Blade himself, sits abandoned next to the fire. Wilbur doesn’t comment on it.

He finds the plates and passes them to Techno before diving right back in. They have honey, he thinks. It would be useful for soothing Tubbo’s throat.

The honey is found from the bottom of one chest, buried under maps and journals. Wilbur holds the bottle in his hand and dusts it off. It’s from L’Manburg, from when they were all so full of want to prove themselves, from when they built up dreams of a nation. The bottle is labeled with Tubbo’s messy scrawl, a small bee drawn in the corner. Wilbur can almost see it; Tubbo, dragging Tommy along, carefully extracting the honey from the hives of his prized bees.

Techno hands him a mug and snaps him out of the almost-painful memories. Wilbur thanks him a bit shakily, tries to offer a smile. The memory plays in the back of his mind; he can almost feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. It’s not enough to keep the cold away.

Wilbur concentrates on pouring some honey in the mug and filling it the rest of the way with hot water and some herbs. It should help with Tubbo’s throat, he thinks, and then he imagines Schlatt’s hands again and almost drops the mug. Fuck, he hates that goat.

Techno divides the meat onto the plates. Wilbur helps with the potatoes, and together they carry the food back to the med room. Wilbur balances the plates on his arms and pulls the door open with his food, harsher than intended. It slams against the opposing wall with a loud clang.

Tubbo, who had been curled up, jolts up and awake at the noise. Tommy flinches up too, a mess of gangly limbs with too much sudden energy. Tubbo scrambles to sit up and Tommy moves to help him. He only gets a hand on Tubbo’s back before Tubbo winces away with a small gasp, feet still tangled in the blanked. Tommy draws back like he’s been electrocuted, apologizing all the way.

Wilbur, still standing in the doorway, hastily sets down the plates and the mug and steps forward, unsure how to help. Niki’s awake too, curled over her ribs, eyes big and sharp, taking in everything in the room. Wilbur glances at her, tries to convey comfort and probably only succeeds in telling her “I don’t know what I’m doing” with his eyes.

Tubbo, red in the face and eyes downcast, pushes himself up the rest of the way, his back to the wall but not against it. His breathing has sped up a bit and he tugs the blanket tighter, refusing to look any of them in the eyes despite Tommy’s attempts to the contrary. Tommy sets a hand on Tubbo’s hand and, when it’s not rejected, draws him into a hug. Wilbur turns away, knowing that his comfort is unwanted right now.

Techno passes him the two plates he had set down earlier before making his way out of the room to fetch the plates they couldn’t carry. Wilbur watches him go, fiddles with the plates and the mug before taking a deep breath and turning back around.

Tommy still has one arm around Tubbo’s shoulders, and Tubbo still refuses to meet his eyes, but neither of them are trembling anymore, so Wilbur takes it as a win.

The plates are put down in front of the boys, and Tommy nudges Tubbo slightly. Tubbo looks up at Wilbur, holding out the steaming mug. Embarrassment still dusts his cheeks red and his eyes are still a bit glassy, but he takes the mug with steady hands. Wilbur watches as Tubbo sniffs the cup curiously.

“For your throat,” he explains, as kindly as possible. Tubbo blanches a bit, his hand raising to his throat like he just now remembered it, but he nods and sips the drink. It’s not probably disgusting, Wilbur thinks, given how he makes a small appreciative noise and takes a bigger gulp.

Tommy picks up his plate and starts to absentmindedly shovel the food into his mouth, eyes still following Tubbo. Wilbur rests a hand on his shoulder, and when Tommy finally breaks his gaze and looks up, tries to convey how sorry he is that this happened and how much he cares for them both. He imagines he does a shoddy job, but Tommy nods and resumes to staring at Tubbo. They are probably going to talk about it later, so Wilbur lets it be.

Niki welcomes her food with a smile, though the tension hasn’t entirely left her shoulders. Wilbur smiles back and sits down, as close as he dares. He relishes in the comfort of seeing her alright, after so many stressful weeks. He thinks she might feel the same when she leans against him just a bit.

Techno comes in, carrying two last plates, and passes one of them to Wilbur. Then he just kind of stands there, hesitantly, before Niki pats the bed. Techno doesn’t sit directly next to her but sits down nevertheless, at the foot of the bed. He can see everyone in the room and the door from there, Wilbur knows, but doesn’t mention it.

Quiet fills the air, only broken by the noises of eating. Tubbo doesn’t eat much, just keeps sipping his drink. Wilbur realizes too late that the meat and potatoes are not exactly gentle with his throat. He resolves to make soup as soon as he can.

Tommy finishes his plate, eating like he’s not even tasting the food. Wilbur imagines he’s too distracted for that, keeping an eye on Tubbo. He keeps glancing at the other like Tubbo’s going to vanish the instant he looks away for more than two seconds. Wilbur doesn’t blame him.

Techno eats mechanically, much the same as Tommy, eyes flicking between Tubbo, Niki and the door. He keeps stopping to listen, and Wilbur realizes with a jolt that he’s trying to see if Niki, Tubbo and Eret were followed. God, Wilbur hopes not. They have no way of fighting if that’s the case; three young adults and two kids, and almost half of them injured.

Niki keeps pushing her food around the plate, eating in small bites. Wilbur doesn’t know when she last got food. He’ll have to talk with her about Schlatt at some point, he knows, about what how he was and what he did. But he’ll let Niki get some sleep first. They are all dead tired right now.

Wilbur doesn’t finish his plate either, eating as much as he can and pushing the rest away when it starts growing cold. The stress of the day is still a weight dragging him down, even when the relief of seeing Tubbo and Niki alive has lifted something from his shoulders. They are here now, he keeps telling himself. They don’t ever have to go back there.

One by one they start nodding off again. Tubbo leans against Tommy, hands still wrapped around the nearly empty mug. Niki is curled up on her bed, eyes half open, the braid Techno made her slung over her shoulder.

Techno and Wilbur collect the plates. Wilbur looks back when they are stepping out of the door. Tommy and Tubbo are already asleep, Tubbo on the wall side of the bed, Tommy a barrier between him and the world. Niki is still watching them, but her blinks are getting longer and her eyes are slipping shut.

It’s going to take a while for them to be okay. There’s going to be talking and discussing and fighting too, probably. Wilbur knows all this.

Still, as he looks at his family, warmth filling his chest, he can’t help but think that yeah, everything is going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos give me life, so please let me know if you enjoyed this! I'm a non-native English speaker, so I would appreciate it if you pointed out typos and such (however, I do ask for no harsh criticism, please! I'm just doing this for fun)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and have a good day!


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